Let me pour you one more cup of tea as Lady Alexa captures our attention with a most horrid tale...
by Alexa Adams
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It was an idea born of nightmare …
See a young bride welcomed to the home of her new husband’s relations. Of all his connections, these are the most exalted, and having been used to better company than those members of the family she had already met provide, most anxious is she to please in this quarter, where so much future comfort might lay. She had dressed with the utmost attention, conscious of those matters of fashion which previously little concerned her, yet did she not perceived her hostess examining her appearance with distaste? Having always lived in the same place amongst the same people, an introduction such as this was foreign to her, and perhaps it was the newness of her circumstances that rendered her sensitive to slight, but she could only think the lady rather cool in her demeanor. No matter; having always known herself widely admired, a little effort was surly all required to overcome this new cousin's reticence.
She began complimenting her surroundings, proceeding from the countryside to the park and house themselves. Feeling the loss of her own elegant home, which she had never thought to leave, she could not but exclaim: “So extremely like Hartfield! And it is not merely the house - the grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like. The laurels at Hartfield are in the same profusion as here, and I had a glimpse of a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in mind! My father would be enchanted with this place.”
There was an awkward pause. Receiving no response, she nervously continued, “You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the staircase was: placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really could not help exclaiming! And this room is the very shape and size of the morning room. Do you not think it astonishingly like, Mr. Elton? I could really almost fancy myself at Hartfield."
She wished she were there, such rhapsodies having utterly failed to impress the lady. Rather she looked uncomfortable with the comparison and soon redirected the conversation. “I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton,” she said. “Upon these occasions, a lady's character generally precedes her; it is well-known that you are a superior performer.”
"Oh! No, indeed! I must protest against any such idea. Consider from how partial a quarter your information came. I am fond of music, and while friends credit my taste, I fear I never was diligent enough to earn such praise.”
Her husband exclaimed, but she knew the truth. Jane Fairfax was her notion of a superior performer, and she found herself bringing that lady forward as a subject, heaping upon her the same praises she so used to resent. How her hostess could hold the slightest interest in such an unknown, she knew not, but still she persisted. When they returned to Highbury, she would do something for Miss Fairfax. Her previous neglect had been abominable, and such an elegant companion, after several weeks spent amongst her new family, would be most welcome. Perhaps she might be of assistance in securing her a position …
I woke up in terror. Never could such a fate befall my dear Miss Woodhouse! Never would she accept the proposal of Mr. Elton! Or would she?
In honor of Halloween, I offer a tale most sinister. Be warned, faint-hearted Janeites! For here lies something truly horrid: Emma & Elton.
~end
Guest post created by Alexa Adams, author of Emma & Elton
© 2012. All rights reserved.
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AVAILABLE here October 24-31, 2012.
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